The Boyfriend Box~ A Harry Styles Fanfiction *on hold*

Denial Stage~ Chapter 1

9:35 a.m. Earlier,  on the day of Grace's funeral.

Bleep Blap Bleep Bloop! Bleep Blap Bleep Bloop!

I groan into my pillow, cursing the damn house phone

“Who the hell is calling this early in the morning? On a Sunday too!” I think angrily as I pull the sheets over my head.

“Grace,” I call out to my wife “Hey Grace, answer the stupid phone! It’s probably for you anyway.” I grumble the last part to myself.

I wait for her smart ass answer; she always has something smart to say. It’s one of the things I love about her.

But it doesn’t come.

“Grace?” I call out again.

Still no answer.

I sit up and look at her side of the bed, it’s perfectly neat, her pillow is nice and poufy and it doesn’t even show that she even slept on it. I place my hand on it and its cold.

A sudden chill washes over me and I remember;

Grace didn’t sleep on it

 Because Grace is no longer here.

Grace is dead.

I look over at my calendar hanging by her nightstand, today’s date is crudely scratched out with red ink, but I don’t really need to see the date because I already knew what day it was, it’s etched into my brain.

Today is Sunday, January 8, 2012

Also known as the day of Grace’s Funeral.

Bleep Blap Bleep Bloop! The phone rings again angrily.

I groan again and shuffle to pick up the phone on the nightstand.

“Hello?” I ask groggily

“Harold Styles! I have been calling you for hours, do you know how worried I have been? I thought you might have hung yourself from the ceiling fan!” screeches an all too familiar voice.

“Hello mom,” I say with as much love as a robot, don’t get me wrong- I love my mother, but she is just smothering 85% of the time.

Her idea about hanging myself from the fan did sound pretty appealing at the moment though…

I quickly shook the thought from my mind; Grace would kill me if I ever attempted suicide.

I smile picturing Grace as an angel. Coming down from heaven, just to scold me for my foolish thoughts. Oh god she would make a breathtaking angel-- a feisty one, but a beautiful one indeed.

Just thinking of Grace made my stomach lurch. I was about to drown myself in thoughts of Grace, until I realized my mother was still on the phone, “Erm sorry, what did you say mom?”

When she spoke I noticed her voice got softer, and had an annoyingly somber tone to it.

“Honey, how are you feeling? I know today must be hard for you.”

“How do you think I’m feeling? My wife just died and today I’m putting her into the ground. I’m so fucking ecstatic!”  Is exactly what I wanted to say to her, but I bit my tongue and said the safest thing I could say;

“I’m coping.”

I heard her breathe a sigh of relief, “Oh good honey, I’m sure Grace would be happy to hear that.”

As soon as the word “Grace” reached my ears it felt like the phone was burning coal, I didn’t even notice when it clattered to the floor.

“Harry? Harry, hello?” my mother’s voice seeped out of the phone.